


Michael's Prize

by Erik



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Dom/sub, Domestic Violence, Dominance, Flogging, Heavy BDSM, Heavy Elements, M/M, Masochism, Master/Slave, Non-Sexual Submission, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Sexual Content, Sexual Slavery, Slave Trade, Slavery, Slaves, Submission, sadist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2020-02-18 12:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18699796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erik/pseuds/Erik
Summary: I've written this four years ago. It's unedited, un-beta'ed. So in advance, I'm sorry about the mess it's going to be. If you're interested in becoming a beta reader, please drop me your email. Would highly appreciate it.





	1. Chapter 1

The men evacuated the graveyard slowly. Black suits and shiny shoes as they walked in small groups of twos and threes to their cars. The service was slow, and quite boring. Men in designer suits giving repeated speeches of how good the dead man's deeds were, how often he gave charity, how they'll always miss him. And women were crooning to the young man who had all eyes on him since the begining of the day, and seemed to be enjoying himself a little more than he should. Since it was, after all, his father's death they were mourning. 

The bad blood between father and son was not a secret. The son was known to bad mouth his father in public events. And likewise, the father never missed a chance to criticise his son. Michaelson Sheldon was a womaniser, drunk man who was mostly known for the nude pictures that were all over the tabloids every month or so. Appearantly, the boy couldn't keep it in his pants.

That was what public knew, what everyone believed to be the truth. But I knew a different story. 

One I was lucky enough to be trusted with. And as I followed the trails of the few slaves that came along, I once again repeated the last conversation I had with the old man. I trust you, he'd said.

How many years had it been since someone showed me the kindness that Mr Sheldon did, or the time and attention he showered me with. A slave that has long since lost his value, one who lived with masters far too many to count, and changed ownership as more times that he could remember. 

But all that didn't matter to Sheldon the eldest, which probably explained the lengths I was prepared to take for his sake. The life as I put on the line to follow his orders as they came.

A hand nudged me, not hurtful, but firm, and it broke me out of my thoughts as I turned.

The man gave me a slight motion with his hand, pointing the other way, to his car instead of the one waiting for the slaves. I hesitated, naturally, "Won't that be too quick, perhaps he needs the time to-"

"Time to bury his sorrows," Mr Hershy rolled his eyes. "I don't see him batting an eyelash. I get paid per hour, and unless you plan to pay me back, my dear heir, you'll do as I say."

To mock the Master the day his father dies, the nerve of this man. 

I tried one more time, "I'm a slave, I couldn't possibly sit in the car without invitation." 

"What am I? A sack of potatoes? I'm inviting you." I wanted to tell him that his invitation did not matter. That, yes, he was a sack of potatoes. Not in the literal sense, but in every other way that mattered. That the invitation I seek wasn't his to give, but again, I was a slave, and he was talking again before I could open my mouth to say anything anyway. "You're worth billions now, no slave I know is, let alone a whore."

Giving up, I followed him, allowing him to guide me through the thick crowd. Clearly, we weren't the only ones interested in getting in the same car as Mr Sheldon Jr. Unsurprisingly, though, he acknowledged Mr Hershy at once -This was, after all, the man in who was about to hand him millions. He guided him to the sleek car, making his rushed apologies to the men who flanked him. 

He ignored me, of course, but once I moved to get in, he frowned. "Is he necessary?" he stared at Mr Hershy. "He's an eye candy, sure, but we've got more important stuff to deal with." 

A virgin would've bushed at the compliment, especially one that had been received from a man as Michael Sheldon. He was broad and beautiful, long lashes framing his deep brown eyes, black hair shiny with gel and slicked back, and a bearded jawline to drool over. But I was no virgin, and whores certainly did not blush at men checking them out. 

"He's necessary." Mr Hershy insisted. "As you'll find out in a few minutes." 

Michael nodded with disdain clear on his face. He didn't look convinced, but didn't object, "He can ride front, with Jimmy." 

A man came forward at the mention of the name, his bulging muscles underneath his shirt and the black sunglasses along with the earpiece the picture of a bodyguard should look like. Jimmy took me by the arm, guiding me to the front passenger seat before going to the other side of the car and turning the engine on. "Where to, Sheldon?" 

 

"Home." 

Clearly, Jimmy wasn't the only bodyguard who stayed with Sheldon at all times. There were a dozen of them, in two black jeeps that drove ahead and behind us. And the frown that I got earlier from him, was only because I forced him into the situation where he only had one bodyguard around. At least in wasn't a personal grudge against me. The thought settled my nerves for seconds before I remembered the conversations that were to happen soon, the truth that was to be revealed.

He didn't hate me yet, but he will, soon.

The group finally settled in the now dead man office, and the bodyguards followed inside. Hershy shook his head. "No one will try harming you here, Micheal, it's only us, they can wait outside. 

Micheal Sheldon took off his suit jacket, moving to stand behind the huge mahogany desk and carelessly drapped it on the chair, "You've got your pretty little slave here with you, we won't need refreshments here more than I'll need protection." 

Hershy gave a sigh of clear exhaustion, "I told you that he's needed here, while I read you the will." 

"I'll settle for two. But that's all you're getting." The men filed out of the room, closing the door behind them. Jimmy and another man -a man with a collar- stayed.

"Now talk" it wasn't a request. "He left me the slave? He's not even wearing the Sheldon crest." he eyed me warily. "And no fancy collar." 

Hershy didn't look at him, he was getting out a sealed envelope from the breast bucket of his suit jacket. He opened it, and read "For my dear son Michealson, I leave the slave Oscar, may he find him enjoyable and to his liking." 

Michaelson waited, and when Hershy said no more, he raised a brow. 

Mr Hershy shook his head, "That's all there is." 

Michaelson's features were unreadable as he moved and snatched the paper out of the lawyer's grasp. He went with his eyes through it, slowly, cautiously. I knew the words by heart, for I was right there when Edward Sheldon had written them. "Know that I will always love you, Your Father, Edward Sheldon"

Michaelson's expressions flared, he shot a dark look Hershy, "Is this a joke?" he moved closer towards Hershy "'Cause in case you weren't fucking informed, the actual inheritance could buy me hundreds like the boy over there. Fucking hundreds." 

I've seen Michaelson before, in the rare occasions he came around his father's house, I've seen him annoyed, looking bored, molesting a slave a couple of time, driving race cars and lurking shirtless with an overgrown beard and a smirk tugging on his lips. But I've never seen him angry. He was a changed being without his carefree attitude and lacking his 'chill'. 

I've never seen him slip, losing the rich, embellished British accent that he's acquired in boarding schools or heard his thick accent so plain before. 

In his anger, he was distant, ready to hit anything and everything, but mostly, desirable. I've never been attracted to a man the way I was attracted to Michaelson. The man who now owned me. 

Just as much as I owned him.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written this four years ago. It's unedited, un-beta'ed. So in advance, I'm sorry about the mess it's going to be. If you're interested in becoming a beta reader, please drop me your email. Would highly appreciate it.

"If I didn't get the money, then who did?" Michaelson fumed, "And what the fuck did he do to the old man to make the choice of choosing him over his own blood." He wasn't waiting for an answer, though. "He can't do that to me. I'm his son! His blood. Even if he didn't like me, I'm the one who must succeed him. It's not even legal" 

The lawyer started talking, "It actually is legal and-"

Sheldon cut him off, poking him in the chest, his eyes shooting daggers. "I. Did. Not. Ask. You" He then turned to me. "And who says I want a slave? When I fucking asked for one, a real pretty one and not just a cook and and a maid and a bodyguard, the old man refused me. Now, when he's dead, he's decided to give his son what he wishes for. The man is insane. I would've killed him, except, he's already fucking dead" 

I couldn't keep track of how many times he said 'fuck' or how many dark looks he shot Mr Hershy, still poking him, and getting far more bolder than he should with a free man. After the devastating economic drop, staying free was a matter of pride. Some preferred to die with their head held high, so they starved. And others, like my father, preferred a warm bed at night and good nutrients in his food. He, as my mother liked to to say, thought of slavery as a job, his master as his boss. With just a slight difference. A boss couldn't humiliate, hit, or even kill you. And that's how my father ended up, killed by the hands of his master after he found out that his cherished slave was sleeping with a whore, and had a bastard son with her, too. That was when I was torn away from my mother's arms, and sold. My mom was a free woman. A whore, but a free woman. She tried harder than she should, and perhaps tried playing the game of people far more powerful and much smarter than she was, but she only had her eyes on the goal, getting me back, she ended up with a knife in her throat, in a dark alley left to rot. 

The lawyer wasn't trying to defend himself, and Sheldon's voice kept rising, to the point where I was pretty confused about how he hasn't lost his voice from all the yelling. 

Abruptly. The yelling stopped, which brought me back to reality, Michaelson was talking, "I want you to start working on getting it back. The whole inheritance. That is, if you're still interested in working for this family." his eyes turned to me then, roaming my body. "I'm not sleeping with a boy that the old man fucked! That's just gross!"

I tried to look uninteresting. To look as if I was lost. He's gonna keep me, whether he liked me or not, he's gonna end up taking me in anyway. It's what my old master promised, he made sure that his son would have no other choice but to keep me. I spoke, denying it, because when my master's job was to keep his son from throwing me away, he could do nothing to make him like me, that would be my job, and so I said, "He never slept with me, Sir. I've been given a room since I was bought. He's always meant for you to have me." 

It was to vain, though, I knew that from his drawn- together eyebrows. He didn't like what I had to say. But he didn't comment, though, as if I was a fly that annoyed him, which perhaps I was, and turned back to the lawyer.

"I-" Hershy started, but never got to finish his sentence. I've known Hershy to be al mighty and stubborn, an old man with experience and some white colour sneaking its way between his silky black hair. I've never seen him stutter, it was quite a sight. 

"And you never told me who got it. I mean, he didn't like any of his people more than he liked me. So, who?" 

Hershy was quiet, and I knew he was debating his choices. I also knew that if I had the choice.of decking whether or not to tell, if I could make myself have the choice, I'd probably never speak a word. So I waited, with everyone else in the room. 

Hershy's words were softly spoken, tentative, careful."Mr Sheldon didn't exactly give it to anyone else." Which was the truth, he was going to get his inheritance back. One way or perhaps the other, he still could use the money the way he wished.

Michaelson scrowled. "Don't tell me he gave it to charity." 

"He was never that kind of man, no." The lawyer answered, and I immediately disagreed, internally, of course. I couldn't say a word against free folk. 

Mr Hershy owns one of the best firms across the country, his name and his grandfather's name before him were only spoken by the elite of society, but even he was sweating heavily. And hesitating, he said, "It's in the name of Oscar Sydney, your slave"


	3. 3

"If you think this is funny, then I'll fucking show you what's funny!" the fury, the disbelieving look on Michealson's face spoke volumes. He only gave one look to Jimmy and the other guard beside the turd for them to march forward and grab both the lawyer's arms, pinning him in place for Sheldon's fist to connect with his face, crushing it. 

A sickening sound came as his fist connected with Hershy's face. He's broken his nose, probably. Then another punch came, this time to his chest and guts, once, twice, and a third time before he slapped him right across the face. The lawyer's screams were faint, and his face red when Michealson stopped. "I don't enjoy being played with. First no money, then a slave, then a slave who owns more money than his master. What game are you playing. I'll kill you, or send someone for your head. You might prefer the latter, because I'll cut you limb by limb before finally, finely, killing you for good. By then, you'll have exhausted your vocal cords trying to beg me for it to end, ask Jimmy. He's seen me in action." 

There was no way for the lawyer to have seen the brute, since he was behind him, but Jimmy nodded anyway, agreeing with his master.

Michealson snickered, "Now why don't you just tell the truth. Where are my ownership papers?" 

"I've told you the truth. He owns it! He owns everything. And you-" 

Another fist, not as hard as the first ones, but still a punch. "The truth, mister. Or you'll never leave this room but a corpse, and I'll go through your luggage myself, I'll search under rocks if I had to." 

"The papers, the papers of his ownership are in my bag. Please-" Hershy coughed blood, sneaking his armani suit in the process, but he didn't seem to notice. 

Michealson went through various contract papers before he stopped. "There it is." He read it's contents silently. No one spoke, and the silence was deafening. Moments later, having skimmed through it all.

As silence stretched, Hershy coughed pathetically. "He's a sworn slave. Even if your father has never stated him yours, you would've gotten him anyway. He'll never be freed, he's all yours. You own him and everything that's his own." 

Michealson opened the office door, probably giving up already. But what he did next sent butterflies to my stomach. He called more bodyguards in. Nerves were killing me, and I could feel my face burning. He's going to kill me, no doubt. That was the end of it. It will end before I even got the chance to impress him with the skills I spent two years, two long years practising. But what did I expect, this was Michaelson Sheldon we were talking about. The unyielding master, the one who had little mercy and liked having fun more than anything else. And I was the one who threatened his fun and lifestyle. Of course I had to go. And I had no say in it, too. 

"Take the slave." The men that came in didn't seem the least bit surprised by the commotion going on. In fact, I'm not sure they even noticed anything unusual. Which only served in making my blood turn cold, "Lock him up," What? Not kill? Not bury him alive? Not.. "No privileges, and keep an eye on him at all times." That I could deal with, I've been starved and locked up more times than I could remember since I've been sold. 

One man held me by the arm, and tugged, cruelly, I followed. "I want him in one piece when I come for him, Brent." 

Brent nodded, but his hold didn't falter. 

After that, and to my greatest surprise, Brent asked me where I usually stayed, and I showed him the way to my room. It was small, not a free man's room, for sure. With a small bed table with a chair, and a dresser. Perhaps the only thing in that room that might've belonged to a free man was the laptop that sat on the table with a printer and a scanner. The papers and pens were also of high quality. Brent eyed them with raised eyebrows as another bodyguard came into the room, ropes in hand. 

Brent stopped him, "He said lock him up, nothing about bandage or ropes." 

"We don't know the boy, I don't want to take the worst of it if something goes wrong, especially when he's in such a foul mood." 

Brent nodded, "Fair enough"

For his credit, the man didn't try to make it painful, doing what necessary while still trying to keep me comfortable. And tossed me to the bed at last. 

I was left with Brent, him playing what seemed to be a video game the whole time, while I sweated some more. Now that he knows the lawyer was telling the truth, was he going to kill him? If that's true, will Hershy have the time to tell him that killing me before the two promised years will result in never him getting the inheritance? I hoped so. My life was hanging on that piece of thread. Then I remembered that Hershy doesn't know anything about the two years, and my world darkened even more. I tried to reassure myself, he'll still tell him that killing me will send the money to the agency that trained me. I hoped. 

I cried a little, waiting for my fate to be settled. And kept hoping for the best. Kept repeating that it's going to be fine. That I would've been dead two years ago anyway if Mr Edward wasn't there to save me. That my life would've ended long ago and that I should be grateful for the two extra years instead of resenting my situation. 

There was no way for me to know the time accurately, but I knew it was getting late when I started yawning. I coconut believe my body reactions. While I was waiting for my execution, my damn body wanted its six hours of sleep. And before long, I drifted off. 

It was in the first morning hours that I finally opened my eyes to voices outside the room. I blinked repeatedly, noticing that Brent was gone and another guard has taken his place, one that wasn't holding his phone.

Seconds later, my new master barged in. He was wearing the same cloths as the day before, his hair a mess, and some stubble on his chin. It didn't take a genius to realize that I was the only one in the room who has gotten any sleep. My master looked exhausted, and whatever he's been doing in the last few hours, hasn't gone according to his plan, because he wasn't the least bit amused. 

"Untie him, and get out." He issued the order as naturally as a king might. Like someone used to being obeyed. Which was what happened. A guard untied me, before the rest bowed and left. One person stayed, though. One that I haven't noticed before because he was wearing suits very similar to the rest of the guards. Except, he wasn't one of the guards. He wasn't a slave. His suit was much more cared for, his shoes shinning to the point where I could probably see my reflection in it.

"Oscar Sydney." If I didn't know any better, I would've thought he was teasing me.


	4. 4

He waited, and. I waited. There wa no way I'd be the one to break the silence. It was just not happening. 

Finally, he said, "Tell me your ways. What have you done to the old man that I couldn't?" 

I stared, I knew my mouth was hanging stupidly. And I tried pretty hard not to rub on my sore wrists. Almost every muscle in my body ached, and I couldn't wrap my mind around what he wanted me say. How did I succeed? I didn't. 

But my master had different ideas, obviously. "Don't think that for one second I believed that lie about you not sharing his bed. What? Did you amaze him with your great mind and abilities to calculate difficult mathematical problems? And so he decided to gift you with seven villas and four apartments? And I haven't even mentioned the steady flow of cash to a bank account in your name and the sport cars. He named you his owner of Sheldon & Co. And I, his son, a CEO." He looked around the room. "Not a very enchanting space to give your bitch. But given that you spent your time tucked.in his arms and barely came here, I'm sure you were able to manage." 

I wanted to deny his words so badly, that I momentarily forgot the master/slave code and spoke out of turn. "I did not! Sir! I swea-" He was quick to correct me, however. A slap across my face sent me sprawling to the floor, crashing heavily, fighting back tears. 

"Don't lie!" He snarled. "I never gave you permission to speak. Looks like he was spoiling you far too much. Perhaps you need a lesson in how slaves should act around their superiors." 

He had me by the shirt, his face inches from mine. "I spent the night going through files and documents I never imagined myself going through, and before that, calling a lawyer after another, trying to get out of the mess that has been thrown at me. I did all that, instead of partying like I should've. And what were you doing?" 

He had his other hand around my throat, choking me. "Fucking sleeping, in lala land. Did you enjoy your hours of peace? 'Cause they're gonna be your last."

He let go of me, and I went into a coughing spree. It hurt. Everything hurt. 

"I don't know what he expected!" He said, his voice clipped. "You're mine. And at least, what Hershy said is true. What you have is mine by birth right. I could make you sign all the papers I want you to," Which was true. "And I could take my place as a CEO with no worries. Practically speaking, I own everything." 

"You need rest." the voice unfamiliar, I turned to see the man who came in with my master. I have almost forgotten he was there. 

"I'll go back to Grandma's, then. I can't-" 

The man in shiny shoes moved closer, and in a flash, he was kissing my master open mouthed, with sucking sounds and all. 

He pulled back to whisper softly in my master's ear, something so soft I couldn't hear. My master nodded, accepting. "You're right. I own this place now. Everything he has, it's mine." He was talking about me, but never looking my way. Only having eyes to Mr Sophisticated. When did he get a boyfriend? Or was he more than that? 

They went back to kissing, my master pulled back first, "We'll finish this somewhere else." He seemed to remember me at last. And turning to me, he said, "You'll stay here from now on. No going out. A guard will be outside at all times. I'd advise you against doing anything stupid. It'll end badly, and I'll lock you up in a dungeon with no light and minimum water if I have to."

I bowed my head, trying to keep worried nerves at bay. All the planning, the preparations, it didn't include a boyfriend in the picture. Not one as close as that man has been to my master.

He kept his promise, these hours I spent sleeping were my last with peace of mind. Minutes after he left the room, men came in, carrying first the laptop and everything electronic in its wake, followed by the bed, then the dresser(with all my cloths still inside it.) and the small desk, then my chair. I wished with all my heart that they'd stop at that. But one of the men then undressed me, taking away all my cloths down to my underwear, then ushered me to the bathroom, where he waited for me to finish my business while another of his kind broke the handle of the door and the lock, it made sure that I could never get privacy again any time soon. 

It wasn't something I wasn't used to. At least, the men weren't especially cruel towards me. And after all, my teenage years were far worse than that. 

After that, Brent came in holding a thick collar, which he fastened around my neck, then locked. All the while smirking at me, he said, "There's a tracking device in this, in case you haven't figured it out yet." 

I nodded my acceptance, and his smirk turned to a grin. "Such good behaviour from a brothel boy." 

I sighed, "I thought it might take longer than that." 

"Oh, no" Brent shook his head, "He ordered a background check on you the moment you left that office. 

After that, the days blended together. I never heard or saw the Master again. I was brought food twice a day, and then checked on my every hour or so. Other than that, I was left there to rot, slowly.


	5. 5

It was few days later, few days of sleeping naked and eating bread and nothing else, that he came in again. I knew I was getting the minerals I need from the water they bring me. It tastes different, almost foreign, and it reminds me of the pleasure house more often than not. 

After getting used to being fed and given a comfortable bed to sleep on, it was quite a change to go back to what it has been before. At least, I had company in the brothel, men coming in to make use of me. Nothing like this here.

He strode in with the usual confidence, no one was with him this time, no bodyguard and no Boyfriend. And he wasn't pleaded, obviously. He was holding a folder in one hand. And used a foot to shut the door before giving me his full attention. 

I stood up, bowed my head and wondered about where my hands should go. I was never one slave for familiarities. And my clients liked more.action to waste their tike.on such things, especially since they paid for every minute they spent with me. 

"Through the past week, I've gone through some documents you had in your laptop." I suckered in a breath, he went on, unconcerned. "And here's what I found," 

He fumbled with the file, opening it. "Deals with overseas partners I've never heard of, with promises of tripling the income that I've never seen any real results of." He seemed to be reading off a list, checking for every point. "Amount of workers that provide very little outcome, no tangible feedback, again." He went to go to read through another paper. "You invested in one thousand workers, people with no degree or experience. Oh! Here's something better, even" I could feel his glare on my bowed head, and shuddered. "You gave them homes and encouraged marriage. What are you funding, a charity case?"

He was waiting for an answer, I knew, "That's exactly what it was, sir. A charity-" I couldn't finish because, of course, of course, he had to slap me, taking the words away with him. 

"I don't run a house wives show here. I don't run charity for something to spent my time on. I've got an empire to manage." He was holding me by the collar, then. Forcing me back, one step followed by the other. "And you'll end this foolishness at once!" 

I couldn't, I couldn't ruin the lives of hundreds of workers because he refused to spend money on them, and I told him so, which proved to be the worst mistake of all, "Did not ask for your opinion, sweetheart" He was choking me, slowly. "I gave an order. Say 'yes sir' and we'll be done with it." 

Master Edward had taken time and money and chances to set up all that. He's talked about it for months, and when it was finally done, he uploaded me for it. He thanked me, a lowly slave for my help, for all the night I stayed up to finish the work. It was too hard for me, too agonising, but the words had t com out. "Sir, if I may, please.."

He slapped me with his free hand, then held me tighter, I felt consciousness slip away, slowly, "say it," He ordered. 

I said it. 

*  
After that, I was given my laptop back, and with it, came shorts that were two sizes too small for me. 

I didn't complain, of course. But took them happily and Wore them with a smile, it was something. And something was always better than nothing. 

I tried not to frown at the task on hand, I was about to do it on orders from a superior, I tried keeping the guiltless inside, buried deep.

I pressed the keys slowly, trying to keep it at bay. But it was to vain, and I ended up pressing the keys anyway.

After dispatching all these members, I sat down and wept, slowly, softly. I hated myself. I hated myself more than I've ever hated coward father for never standing up for his son, and with all the hatred I held for the courtesan who took me under her wing and trained me to be the whore I was today. But could do nothing about it. Nothing but shed tears and pray for the happy ending. 

*  
I checked emails after that, just to pass time. I wasn't granted the permission to reply to any of them, of course. But I enjoyed the luxury of knowing what was going on outside the room I was kept in. It was something I wasn't anticipating allowance to. And it brought little joy to my heart. 

I was checking one of the scars when my master barged in that day, and tried desperately not to trip with my own ankles in the way. 

I wasn't wearing the short shorts. You couldn't wear the same outfit for more than a week and not attempt to wash it, especially since I was given access to clean water. It was drying on the tub's bench. And I dearly regretted choosing today to wash it. I felt vulnerable, so out of place as two men followed him into the room. All three men were dressed in sophisticated suits. With my master in baby blue blouse and his hair pulled back. His tanned skin going so well with the colours of his clothing, he looked refreshed, and.. controlled, calm and very businesslike. It scared me a little. 

He took one look of me and got out, calling for someone. Moments later, I was given jeans -not anywhere near as good as his, and a shirt.

The two men were giving the world disapproving looks, but he shrugged them off as easily as he'd deal with a fly. 

They were lawyers, Mr Hershy's replacement, it appeared. And they were talking with my master in hushed tones. I heard few words, and they made enough sense to me "He's - heir, yes yes, treat him well, better. Good money. No"

My master cut that conversation short, though, not caring. "And he's my slave. I treat my slaves how I see fit. Heir or not, I own him, you can't tell me what to do." He gave them pointed look. "You can always ask him how he feels about everything and take it into consideration, but it'll change nothing. The circumstances are wh wh present you. You can take it, or leave it." 

After that speech, the lawyer's agreed to everything my master said swiftly, with no arguments. 

They made me sign papers, I was allowed to read the contents, but that was all I was given, I couldn't voice my opinion.


	6. 6

Days after the visit from the lawyers, I've done something I should never have. But perhaps Michaelson was right, perhaps I was too spolied by the old man already, and could no longer keep my hands to myself, could no longer keep myself in check. Because what I've done, no same slave would ever do. 

I hacked into Michaelson account.

It was the most stupid move, but I couldn't stop myself.

After dispatching all those families and leaving them to starve, there were so many emails coming in. Some begging, some threatening, and others plainly cursing Sheldon and his company. Those people couldn't do any real harm to any investment owned by Sheldon. And they were ignored, and so I ignored them, too. 

But one of those emails had been different. 

The sender was Slade, a boy I've known since the pleasure house days. And one of those few that Master Edward had been generous enough to grant them freedom. I knew that he married off years ago, and had a little girl with lung cancer. 

Little Lucy was dying. 

I don't think I thought much of what I did. It happens automatically, my fingers moving on their own as I logged in into a software after the other, plunging the passwords and using my finger prints. No one had bothered with dispatching me or my accounts, and even if they wanted to, they couldn't. The only one who could didn't bother acknowledging me unless he wanted me to sign papers. 

I didn't try transferring money from the company's main account. It was was suicide. and would be discovered in no time. And even if I did, I would risk exposing the secret my master tried hiding with all his might. No one knew about the will but the lawyers. And with all his heart, Michaelson wanted it to stay that way. 

And so I hacked into his account instead. He wouldn't miss a few grands. The grands that would be spent to save a little girl's life and he'd use in one night. I didn't think he'd miss them.

But I was wrong.

They sounded the alarm, two hours after the call. It was too late. They wouldn't get the money back, and that won't be able to track it. Nevertheless, if they had a good enough technical, he'll be able to track the sender back to my location. But necessarily to my laptop. That was one thing I loved about the new insertions Mr Edward had put up. The network works as one, which meant anyone could've hacked into the account and stole the money. 

I waited, and four hours after the alarm, I relaxed. If they didn't reach me in two hours, they never would. 

However, few minutes after I relaxed, the door clicked open. And in came Brent with mush that he called food. With him, came my master. My heart started beating fast before I could comprehend the reason behind the visit. There's always a reason, always a catch. Always

"Hope you're enjoying the food, sweetheart." He said. 

That struck me as a surprise. Asking for my opinion and a 'sweetheart' in the same sentence, even with sarcasm dripping off the edges, it was still something new. 

"Very much, sir" 

He smiled, amusement clear in his sky blue eyes, "Good, so you wouldn't mind doing some extra work for me." 

He knows.

But there came my answer, dutiful as ever, "It would be my pleasure, sir" 

"I want reports on the advertisement department. More of what they're spending And on what the anything else. But you can add any necessary details as you see fit." 

He doesn't know. 

"Yes sir." 

"Weekly, send it to my father's email." He added. "I want the first one in three days. And it better be good." 

Again, I nodded "Yes sir" 

He gave me a curt goodbye before disappearing. 

And then I was back to my laptop. There had to be a reason behind the work. He was testing me, definitely testing me. Maybe he knew after all, and was having his fun, enjoying watching me sweat and worry. He probably knew it all already, guessed at what I've done and now comprehending how to kill me in one smooth motion.


	7. 7

Days later, I still couldn't sleep. If he knew, if he knew, he'd kill me. Heir or no heir. If he was able to buy the lawyer's word with a little warning, couldn't he find a way out of the trouble his father put him in?

I hoped for a 'no' answer. But I couldn't get it. Could never be certain. What if he decided he'd keep me, only to take his violence out on me. What then? With such a frail body like mine, I doubted I'd survive. I have lost pretty much all the weight Mr Edward had taken the time to put in me. 

Not long after, I began wondering if Lucy was in fact worth the risk I took for her. Later, I'll beat myself up for the doubt. But right at that moment, I couldn't think of anything else. Nothing should've been worth the risk. I've become too soft during those two years with Mr Edward. Back in the pleasure house, I wouldn't have survived a week if I tried helping every guy I pitied. I had to take care of myself back then, and I played dirty to stay alive, giving up on good friends and selling them out to watch out for myself. 

I needed that ruthlessness personality now more than ever if I was to ever survive the brutality of my current master. 

I went back to work, forcing my thoughts away from the trouble I had put myself in. I couldn't anger him, I had to do the best work I'm capable of. So far, and after sending two reports already, there has been no reply, which I supposed was a good sign. My master wasn't shy in stating his desires, if he was displeased, he would've barged into the room ten days ago. 

And he hasn't. 

So all is good, hopefully. 

I was waiting for the 'your message has been sent' to turn off the laptop. I lived long days alone in this room, and the time that I don't spend on my laptop, I spend curled up in the corner of my room. It was summer, and the days were usually hot and sweaty. And I hoped for the millionth time for something I couldn't name. It wasn't like I could wish to go back to how things were, I hated my days as a whore, and my mom was dead, which is why I never allowed myself to think of my childhood days. And I couldn't hope for love from my current master. Money turns men into monsters, I should probably be thankful he hasn't killed me yet and found another way out of the inheritance. 

I couldn't hope for a better life. For I didn't know what a better life could be like. 

Without a knock, I heard someone walk into the room, and I didn't turn. It wasn't time for my meal, but Brent has never been precious with time, he could bring it an hour early, three hours late, and I never complained. I guessed he found me a pleasant enough prisoner, because he never bothered me more that necessary. And it wasn't like my meal would turn cold, it's always brought in cold, so I ignored Brent. 

But the person who towered over me when I turned to see why I haven't heard the clack of metal as he sat the plate to the floor, or the door as he closed it, wasn't Brent.

It was my master's lover.

I gaped, closer my eyes, then gaped again. 

No, I wasn't mistaken, the man who stood over me was the same man who was kissing my master open-mouthed the day I was first locked in here. 

I stood up, my feet buckling in the process, and bowed my head slowly. 

This was bad news. 

Why would my master send his lover into here? Another test? Another game, probably? 

"You stink." The man muttered. 

"I'm sorry, sir" I couldn't find another, more-suitable reply to his accusation. I've taken a shower that same morning.

"Get your ass into the bathroom." 

Why did I have a bad feeling about this? I didn't know. But I walked, slowly, with calculating steps to the bathroom door. His following me close behind. And into the small room with one little bottle of shampoo and soup. He ordered me to strip.

Naturally, I obeyed. I was a slave, he was a master, that was a reason good as any other. And so I shed my cloths, which was only a pair of jeans. No underwear.

The man's brown eyes shone with hunger as I held the jeans with both hands. I knew that look very well, I had memorized it long ago. And I wasn't stupid enough to still wonder what it was he wanted with me. But it didn't stop the blood in my veins from running cold. 

I didn't think I was kidding myself when I thought those days were over. I knew that I might be used by the master himself, and I wouldn't have questioned it. I have suggested it myself to him in the day he found out about the will. I've told him that his father had left me for him, and that I never shared a bed with his father. I thought it had held invitation enough. 

But I didn't think I'd have to go through this again. Or at least, I hadn't thought I would go through it. I had pushed it to the back of my mind with all my will, with all the determination I could muster. But here it was again, the same situation, laughing in my face, broadly, with its eyes twinkling. 

And there, two feet away from me, stood the man who was going to rape me.


	8. 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: rape.

I backed up slowly, almost tripping as I reached the edge of the tub if it wasn't for his arms bracing me. I would've thought that that's how a Knight in shining armour would save you from falling. Only, this man with features that only a model could sport, was no Knight riding a white horse, but the devil himself. 

His eyes were intense, "Get in." 

I wouldn't. I couldn't do it. "Please, sir." I begged softly. The voice recognizable to me. It was the same voice I used frequently back in the days, when one customer went too far. The same voice I used the night Mr Edward picked me up and saved my life. The voice of a man hurting. 

"In the tub." He said "Now."

I obeyed, because that was what I was made to do. That was what a slave was made to do. 

I got in, facing him. I thought I knew what was next which is why it probably came as a shock as what I thought would happen didn't happen. 

"Turn it on. Take your shower." And I did so, slowly, slowly, I turned the faucet on. Letting the cold water hit my back, my front. My coçk shrank, and I shivered in cold. 

He raised his arm, and I flinched back, but all he did was change the temperature of the water.

I relaxed involuntarily, the water doing wonders to my tense muscles. And only watched him with the corner of my eye. 

"Shampoo, and soup." He said. "It could do you wonders."

I obeyed, pouring some shampoo from the bottle and using it on my hair, messaging my scalp while still watching him. 

Nudity didn't bother me as much as vulnerability did. Which is why I probably enjoyed dancing for the enjoyment of customers instead of the fùcking itself. 

No longer bothering to keep the act up, the man took off his shirt, and I stopped moving. 

"Jerk off. Like you would if you were on your own." 

I didn't move. "Now."

My hands moved automatically to where he wanted them to be. The whore in me was responsible for the reaction my body gave. And as my còck thickened, slowly filling, I felt rears gather in my eyes.

There was no running away, nowhere to hide as the man shed the rest of his cloths, then turned off the water before jumping in. 

"Please, sir. Please no. Please" I cried softly, "I beg of you, don't do this, sir."

But it was all to vain, because all the man did was brace my hands against the slippery wall. I kicked him, not with enough force to leave any damage, then clawed on his chest. Readying myself to scream. Because there was still a chance, one very slim chance that my master didn't send him. That my master never agreed to this. I struggled again and began screaming because I hoped with all my might that he hasn't paid Brent to get in, and that Brent would come to my rescue.

But all he had to do was lean in, and whisper five words into my ear to cease my struggle. "I hope Lucy is doin' well"

These words were enough to freeze me, strangle me. And by the time my mind started screaming that he couldn't have known, that he shouldn't have known. Because even if he knew that I was the one who transferred the money, he couldn't have known that it was for the sake of Lucy, or that Lucy existed in the first place. 

But by the time all that went through my mind, he already had me pinned to his will, both my arms secure where he wanted them to be. 

He didn't need to, though. I was already bent to his will the moment he said the little girl's name. If he could find out who I have sent the money to, he could harm her, too. And for me to struggle with the hold of the man who could hurt the one family who took me in as a member of their little clique was not even thinkable. 

I let him do as he bid. Let him touch me, and brutally twist on my nipples, tug on my balls and hold me in a bruising grip. 

He never bothered with lubrication. It wasn't exactly dry humping, because he's somehow gotten water on his shaft. But water was not oil, and I felt him tear my inside slowly, because he didn't bother breaking me in first. 

It hurt. And I knew there would be blood like the first time someone took me. It has only happened once to me before. Because after that one time I was always prepared, with plenty of oil in my hole and loose enough to fit two fingers. The customers sometimes complained about me being so loose, but there was nothing the madam who ran the house could do. 

Even with all that, two years with absolutely nothing in my hole but a small plug to get accustomed to having nothing in my butthole wasn't what you'd call preparation. And besides, I had stopped using that plug altogether two months after I arrived into Mr Edward's house. For I was only given the small device to use it when absolute necessity required it. And after those few weeks with no one inside me after being constantly used, it was something I needed often. But then the need stopped, and with it, my frequent need to use the plug had become infrequent till I stopped using it altogether. 

The man wasn't trying to be gentle. Not in the way he thrust or the way he held me, backed up against the wall. He was brutal and cruel and the pain was stabbing.

But finally, finally, his rhythm became more urgent, his tug on my hair harder. His orgasomed hit me hard, and he slowly withdrew, careful on his softening shaft before betting my back gently, and moving me away, "Good boy." 

I was silent. Cold and in pain, but he didn't glance twice towards me as he got out and dried off. Wiping away the wetness that his closeness to my body caused. 

He put on his cloths back on then, and with a wink, disappeared into my room. I heard the lock on my door as he locked me in and knew he was finally gone. 

I didn't move, though, but turned the water back on, turning it cold, and waited as it bit on my skin, I had used that way before hundreds of times, turning numb was definitely better than all what I was feeling. 

I didn't know how long I stayed there, freezing, and unsure whether the wetness on my face was from tears or simply water. But that was how Brent found me late on. Weeping silently on the tub's floor, in a bundle of my blood as I used my shaving kit to cut this lines on my wrist, then my thighs. I was moving on to my ankles when he barged in and barked at me.

He ran out and came back moments later. I think he wrapped me in a warm cloth, holding me close like he would a baby, cursing softly, glaring daggers at the blood that soaked those small parts of my body. 

I didn't know what happened next, because everything went black.


End file.
